


How Sweet it is

by ArielAquarial



Series: Never say Never [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Clumsy Sam Winchester, First Meetings, Flirty Gabriel (Supernatural), Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielAquarial/pseuds/ArielAquarial
Summary: Sam was running late for work, and with a boss like his, he would be lucky if he kept his job. It was just his luck that someone stepped out of the bakery just as he was sprinting past.Sabriel prequel to Never say Never.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Never say Never [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885582
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	How Sweet it is

**Author's Note:**

> Am I writing a prequel no one asked for? Yes. Do I have other stories that I should be working on? Also yes. Regrets? Absolutely not.

Sam Winchester was _never_ late. He prided himself on always being fifteen minutes early to work, giving himself enough time to grab his second cup of coffee from the breakroom and head back to his cubicle for five to ten minutes of peace before he started on the stacks of paperwork that would be waiting for him. He needed that little bit of downtime to get his thoughts in order before he could read through countless corporate contracts and anything else his superiors threw at him.

When Sam woke up that morning, he sighed and rolled over, slipping back into a pleasant doze as he waited for his alarm to go off. He usually beat his alarm by ten minutes, so it was only a matter of time until he was forced to get up and shower. Trying his hardest not to think of how stressful his day was guaranteed to be, he burrowed further into his blankets. No matter what the day brought him, at least he’d have the benefit of being well-rested.

He woke abruptly, knowing immediately that something was wrong. One glance at his alarm clock revealed what caused the unease that had startled him out of his doze. The numbers 12:00 blinked an angry red at him from his alarm clock, a clear sign that his power must have gone out as he slept.

Sam’s phone read seven-fifteen and his heart plummeted. He had unknowingly dozed for a little over forty-five minutes and that meant he was going to be at least twenty minutes late for work. Sam shot to his feet, forcing himself out of the tangle of blankets, and rushed to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Maybe if he skipped breakfast and his morning shower, he would only be _ten_ minutes late.

After rushing through brushing his teeth and combing his hair, he ran to his closet and threw on his suit. Within ten minutes of waking up, he was out the door. He practically ran down the block, juggling his briefcase and stack of manilla envelopes that contained client information and contracts. It was a little wobbly, but if he was careful, they wouldn’t fall. It was rare for him to curse his lack of a car, but he felt that this situation called for it. His brother would laugh at his mad scramble if he could see him now, and Sam couldn’t blame him. He normally enjoyed the thirty-minute walk to work, but not today. Maybe he _should_ get a car. Dean would jump at the chance to help him shop around, and he hasn’t seen his brother in weeks.

He slowed down so he could balance his load and check his watch. Work started in less than five minutes and he still had a fifteen-minute jog ahead of him. His boss was going to murder him.

The smell of pastries and coffee wafted his way from the bakery a few shops ahead, reminding him of how hungry he was. God, he would kill for a muffin and coffee, maybe even a doughnut to go, but he pressed on. If he wasn’t fired for being late, maybe he’d drop by for a pastry on his way home. Perhaps if he was _very_ lucky, there'd be some old pastries in the breakroom leftover from some meeting the higher-ups had.

Just seconds later, the top envelope began to shift, slowly inching its way off of the stack and towards the concrete below. In a moment of panic, he sped up to a run, hoping the additional speed would blow it back into place. With his attention focused on the envelope mere inches from his face, he never noticed the short man step out of the bakery and directly into his path.

Between one second and the next, Sam’s breath was knocked from his lungs and he was tumbling to the ground. He heard his belongings hit the ground, but with no air in his chest, he could do nothing but lay there, dazed and in pain. When he was finally able to suck air into his lungs, his senses were filled with the scent of sugary coffee and cinnamon buns. _The bakery!_ his mind supplied. He had been running past The Sweet Spot and collided with the person leaving.

Oh shit!

He put his hands under his chest and heaved himself up, but it only took him a moment to realize that his hands hadn’t found purchase on the concrete, but on smooth feathers instead. He glanced around, desperate to disprove the theory that his mind provided, but to his dismay, he found himself kneeling on a large wing. The feathers were a creamy white, freckled and tipped with gold. He had never touched wings before or even been close enough to a pair to distinguish all of the nuances in the shape and color of each feather. The smell of cinnamon and sugar surrounded him, and he was sure it had nothing to do with the coffee soaking into the concrete. He hadn’t known that an angel's scent could be so _good._ He wanted to bury his face in the softness and never leave. He wanted this scent wrapped around him as he slept at night, comforting him as he dreamed. He wanted to— _he was still on them!_

“Oh, god,” he hissed in mortification, scrambling to his knees and turning to the angel he had run into. In his periphery, he noticed there was a crowd forming, surely expecting to watch him get his ass kicked by a celestial being. The angel reclined on the ground, an arm behind his head as a cushion against the concrete. He didn’t look murderous, but that didn’t mean _anything._ “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”

The angel cocked an eyebrow and stared, hazel brown eyes boring into his. Brown hair framed his face, only a little shorter than his own, and light stubble covered a sharp jaw. A deep “ahem” caught his attention, and with a shift of his shoulder, the angel shook his wing. Sam glanced down at it, readying himself to see an injury that he’d have to pay for—likely with his life—only to find himself still standing on the wing. He jumped off immediately, saving the man from the pain his two hundred and ten pounds must have been inflicting on him and was ready to drop to his knees and beg for his life. Angels could be fearsome creatures when provoked, and he was pretty sure knocking one on his ass and trampling on his wing could be considered a provocation. He had practically _assaulted_ the angel! Maybe a bit of begging would buy him enough time to figure out how he was going to get out of this alive. Dean was going to kill him—right after he said ‘I told you so!’

But instead of readying for an attack, the angel’s pouty lips tilted up in a smirk and he uttered a pointed, “Hello, big guy.”

“I’m so sorry!” Sam repeated, reaching out a hand that he was sure the angel wouldn’t take. “Can I help you up? Buy you another coffee? Anything?”

To his utter surprise, the angel grabbed his hand and allowed Sam to pull him to his feet. He took a moment to shake out his wings and tuck them behind himself before turning to Sam with a smirk. “Asking me out for coffee already? Wow, you move fast.”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed in shock as he stared at the angel. It was impossible, but Sam was pretty sure the guy was hitting on him. Utterly impossible. There was no way an angel was flirting with him. Angels didn’t flirt with guys like Sam, lowly interns still studying for the Bar. Sam, to put it honestly, was a mess who couldn’t even afford to feed himself properly and could barely find time to call his brother once a week. No, there was no way he could be fortunate enough for an angel to take any kind of interest in him. Especially one who looked like the angel in front of him.

Except… despite what Dean would say (not that he usually listened to his brother's rantings), angels didn’t flirt with someone for fun. They didn’t do casual, so if the angel was flirting with him, it _meant_ something. Which was why he must have been mistaken. The angel was just being nice… _very_ nice.

“Uh…” he replied eloquently, hand still caught between the angel’s warm palms. The sensation of a warm thumb stroking his inner wrist sent tingles up his arm, and he stood there frozen. His mind was screaming at him ‘This isn’t a big deal, he's not flirting with you!’ but the longer those brown eyes pinned him to the spot, the quieter the voice got.

He took a step closer to Sam, smiling up at him from their considerable height difference. “So, where are you off to in such a hurry? Wherever it is, I’m sure I can offer you a better time.”

That snapped him out of his embarrassing stupor. “Shit!” he yelled aloud and took a step back, wrenching his hand out of the angel's firm grip. “I’m late for work. Sorry, but I have to—”

The angel followed him, maintaining the foot or so of distance between them. Sam suspected that if he tried again, the angel would once again match his step. “I can’t let you go without your name.”

Sam was 100% sure that the angel was telling him the truth and _wouldn’t_ let him leave. “Sam Winchester.”

“Sam…” he practically purred the word, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My name is Gabriel and you still owe me a coffee.”

Shit, his boss was going to fire him. “Sure! I’ll buy you coffee, but I’m _really_ late for work, so I need to—”

He turned to gather his things, only to find them gone. Sam cursed again. If someone got hold of those contracts, getting fired would be the least of his worries. He spun around, hoping to see them scattered around somewhere, _anywhere,_ but—

“Looking for these?” Gabriel balanced the stack of folders in one hand, the other holding the briefcase.

Sam stumbled forward in relief and took them. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel smiled brightly. “You can call me Gabe.”

“Alright, Gabe. I really have to go. Again, I’m so sorry!” He turned and speed-walked away, kicking himself for being such an idiot. He was lucky the angel hadn’t killed him, especially after stepping on his wing! 

“Wait!” Gabriel yelled after him.

Sam cursed and turned back to the angel, his feet slowly shuffling backward towards his goal. “Yes?”

“Where are you headed?”

Sam groaned audibly because he _didn’t have time for this_! It was on the tip of his tongue to give a rude dismissal, but one didn’t just dismiss an angel. “Work! Sorry, Gabriel, I’m really late.”

“Didn’t I ask you to call me Gabe?” the angel tutted playfully. “Where do you work?”

He glanced behind him at the path to work and eyed his watch. He still had about ten minutes left to his walk—maybe five if he sprinted the whole way. “I work at the courthouse. I’m already late.”

The angel's eyes brightened. “A lawyer? I gotta say, Sam, you just keep getting better and better.”

His cheeks warmed. “Not yet, but soon. I’m going to be taking the Bar exam in February.”

Gabe closed the distance between them, and with a serious look in his eyes, grabbed Sam’s hand and pressed a kiss into his knuckles. Eyes still connected, Gabriel smiled mischievously. Sam wasn’t sure his eyes could get any wider. He blinked, sure he was dreaming, and suddenly he’s on the front steps of the courthouse, looking at a smug Gabriel.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Sam.”

He stood frozen as he watched the angel take a few steps and disappear, leaving no trace that he had ever been there except for the tingling on his knuckles from a feather-light kiss. Sam rubbed at his eyes, sure he just had some kind of hallucination. Turning to the building, he jogged inside and made his way to his cubicle. He collapsed into his seat in a daze, still in disbelief.

The scent of coffee met his nose, and he blinked his eyes open. With an annoyed sigh, he realized that he must have gotten coffee on his suit, and if his boss saw--

On his desk, right in front of the picture of his parents, sat a cup of coffee. Sam watched in confusion as steam escaped the to-go lid. He reached for it in confusion. Right next to The Sweet Shop’s logo was seven digits and a simple note: _‘You still owe me a coffee date.’_

Sam closed his eyes and pictured Gabriel, sending his heart stuttering in his rib cage. Already, he was smiling at the ceiling just thinking about meeting the angel again. He was in a lot of trouble.


End file.
